Beautiful Nights
by Eiji-Joan-Cathval
Summary: Belarus centric/Point of View. Uh, pretty angsty with mentions of Russia and America as "past" pairings as well. If you don't like angst, come and read for the writing style. First FanFic ever!  Belarus decides to give into her self. BelarusxLithuania
1. Chapter 1

I once dreamed of a beautiful sky. The grays and blues of my pastel dreams, I wonder if I truly ever believed in those petty fantasies or if I was merely attaching myself to the past. The glorious fields of gold and green that my dearest longed for were not what I considered the most wonderful. The soft, delicate colors of his winter were what I loved. They showed just what he really was. Not only the cold heart underneath, I would come realize years later, but the frosted beauty you had that I apparently shared. Could something be so gorgeous and perfect belong to someone so heartless? Perhaps only the cruel will ever obtain what they desire yet with the consequences that my dear faced. Loneliness.

You never had such. Bright, green, and warm. Even in your winters, with the heavy snows that poured your house in, you were still glowing. Continuously cheerful with those smiling green eyes to match the idiotic grin on your face and your stupid summer lands. Stuttering your words and pressing your fingers together nervously, your actions sickened me. Your very appearance sickened me. A look so much different than the one I loved. Brown hair, too long for a man's, emerald eyes that never showed the same strength they once had, a thin and lanky figure lacking in the knight of the past, and not to mention the smile. The pathetic, useless smile you gave to every little thing.

And now, I ask myself if I ever meant the words I said or thought. Were we truly too desperate to care what the other thought? We must have. When you would come to me, you always would say the same words. Always. They never changed from day to day, week to week, on and on. Your eyes always downward, flickering to my face every now and then to my never changing expression to which I came to the conclusion you thought you would find some hint of emotion or sympathy for you. If I had it, I never showed it.

"I love you, I live for you." Yes, I knew. "Will you love me?" I could never.

Never. Always. Such callous words they are and yet so fitting. Those memories of our past buried deep within me, I never dared uncover the heavy dust above them. How could I? Each time I had tried, for each wonderful or happy memory that came forth, another darker one followed. I was your prisoner wasn't I? Your "perfect princess" and the object of your love. The obsessions annoyed me, frightened me and I hated you. I hated mostly everything associated with you. For someone so strong and powerful, you really did have a weak heart.

Then why did I give in?

Snow covered roads and barely lit street lamps with the freezing temperatures to match. That was our first night together in many years. When we walked down the streets of your previous master's native land, I knew from that moment you were different. No, not from the object of my own desires but from yourself: both recent and distant past. You were tired, with sunken features and bags under your eyes. When you gave me a smile when I turned to you, unlit cigarette in hand that I would never smoke, I knew it was forced. I asked you what was on your mind, interested for once in what was plundering that mind of yours.

"You," you replied. I asked you what else for that could not have been all. "I'm just tired."

It was then that you took the cigarette, lit it, and inhaled until your eyes closed with specks of water under smoke. Pulling the scarf closer to my neck I told you that I never pegged you as a smoking type. You told me it was your first in a long time, though your exhale was practiced. I shrugged it off at the time, knowing that a country would not grow sick from such a human habit. But perhaps, they would help you in some fashion.

Stopping in a half-empty restaurant, you ordered us two coffees and sat at a table far away from anyone. The unfamiliar language must not have completely left you from those years ago. You spoke it seemingly well. Not that I am one to talk, forgetting my own from time to time….

"I'm very glad you agreed to go on a walk with me, Miss Belarus." I stared at your trembling fingers, from either cold or nerves I had to wonder. You continued, "It reminds me a bit of the old days." To avoid speaking anything more, you began to douse the coffee as quickly as you could.

I flinched a bit at the statement. "We are much older now, Lithuania." You stopped the idiotic drinking to give me another fake smile. "I do not quite know what to think of the…old days. After all, they were glory for you and Poland. Although, as successful as we all were..." Forest eyes left my stoic ones. "I still remember the feelings of imprisonment."

"A-ah," you choked, smiling sadly to yourself. Yes, you've changed quite a lot.

"Where did your confidence wander off to, Grand Duchy?"

I pretended not to notice your fingers tighten around the mug. I prided myself on not showing emotion after all. Your mouth opened to speak of what I knew would be empty words. Empty like your expression. Excuses would come pouring out of you; at least that is what I expected.

"I…." A long deep breath. "I never lost my confidence." Another false smile. "I just realized my place."

I remember staring at that broken and empty man. What had all of that war done to you? What had all of this…Communism done, exactly? It was then I could see your age. The age of a country instead of the seemingly everlasting youth we shared. You were not Toris. No, I saw the lifetime of Lithuania in those features. The large winter coat did nothing to help other than make those drooping shoulders appear even smaller. How did I appear to you? Was I your same "beautiful Natalia"? Or was it then you in turn saw the age of Belarus?

I never asked. And we had long left that small place for the streets once more. There being hardly a soul to see in the bitter cold of night. I remember standing closer to you than I ever had before. Perhaps it was simply the cold and you were warmer than I. In both heart and body heat it would appear. You walked me all the way back to that small hotel I was staying for the time being.

"Why are you not staying with your brother?"

I never replied. There was nothing I could explain to you.

It would be a few weeks later we would take another walk through the empty streets again. Stopping in a park this time, we sat and talked for hours. We spoke of many things, although they were mostly our daily notions. Whether they were about our poor financial situations, the "new" independence, or the turmoil of our lands, you still held on to a small positive thought process. I remember you flinching at my reference to receiving help from the same person you had many years ago. He is very different from you as well.

I guessed you were upset about this for one reason. You wanted to be the man, the person, to be there to assist me in any way possible. You were much too poor, too much in pain for anything of that. Though, the most interesting part of conversation was when you told me how you always wished for something like this.

"I once believed I loved you," you said and I stared at you with a dead look. At the time I suppose I believed I had taken your affection for granted. Only then did you say, "Now I know, I can't bear to love anything else."

I turned away, without changing my expression in the slightest. I watched the falling snow and you mumbled something about whether or not I was cold. Blinking snow specks from my eyes I told you:

"I thought I loved you once. It turned into hate."

The silence that followed was one for the dead. You did not speak for the rest of the time we spent sitting there. I once again pretended to not notice your quick glances or heartbroken stares. I could feel the devastation radiating from you even as we walked back, and I gripped one shaking arm for warmth. Inside I knew that it was more for my soul rather my freezing body. You swallowed back tears on more than one occasion. I could hear your soft sobs through the wind. And yet, you wouldn't dare cry in front of me. You knew better. Even crestfallen, you still showed a small spark of joy when I told you I wouldn't mind going for another walk in a few weeks.

"Dreadful here, isn't it?" I had said one time, not even looking at you with your sorrow filled eyes and stiff figure, as I gestured at the streets we walked. "I'm quite glad I left."

It was either the very thought of me saying anything remotely cruel about Moscow that shocked you, or it was my tone of voice. For once, it was not as chilled as our surrounding weather. I prayed you only noticed the former. That day, we walked arms linked as if we were a couple. As if we both shared any mutual feelings of love, or even care for that matter.

"You of all people…." Why could you never insult me like you should have? "To think you would say something…like that." My silence must have given you the wrong idea. "N-not that your opinion is ever wrong!"

"Ivan is in a drunken stupor and can barely stand up. What's so good about this place anyway…?" I lied about the latter statement and, in your own way, you knew. I could see the realization in those drooping, hardly open eyes.

"How can you say such words? You…love him, don't you?" You stopped and turned to me. How dare you use my own words against me? That had only added to my deadly feelings about you. Telling me the facts I had already thought I knew. Thought. I was beginning to doubt.

I had loved a powerful, courageous man you could come from nothing to achieve great things. I suppose I could only ever love men like that. He, you, and the other. You were all so much more alike than I'm sure you three wished. Maybe it was only your appearances that were truly the dividing line. For, you all would be reduced to nothing but blabbering, struggling, insane men lost in your own drunken stupors. Whether than had been literal for my longest love, sorrow for you, or a vague and blinding idea of being the world's sanctuary, you were all insane, incredibly amazing men. And I was the idiotic, useless, and not to mention completely blind woman that fell in love with each one of you.

At first glance, you were all so different…. How did I see the core of each of you the same? Platinum blonde and violet eyes, he was the most beautiful. Tall, and wide-shouldered, looking simply perfect in the snows he hated on the inside, yes he really was a spectacle. He was the one that could win the hearts of many for his appearance. He was even enough to make a girl want to forget her own language in favor of his. Donning a small smile, it was all he ever needed. His past was the worst as well, sharing many of it with myself. More bloodshed as been at his hand or upon him than any other I knew. And it took me so many years to simply notice his madness. It was to be expected, and I was a fool to follow him and cling to every word, to become a part of his nation. I was losing myself to him, everything. Absolutely everything was being lost to him. I was blinded by an everlasting love that nobody would ever consider right.

Then there was the other. The one I was relying on now. How I hated myself more than he for once. He was on the other side of the spectrum. Golden hair and bright blue eyes, always grinning a smile that could light his New York City, this man was so much younger than anyone else I was familiar with. In both body and mind. The sun was his best friend. Even in his winters that depending on where you were could be as terrible as the great north, he still found _something _to celebrate or be happy about. I envied his past, his wealth, and his optimistic attitude. All of which, I would never be able to have no matter what I did. His madness was so much different. Oh, he was certainly insane. Just in a different perspective. I tried so hard with that one to not give in, to stay strong and not let my heart interfere once more. We all know what happens when that occurs, after all. He's the world's hero just doing his job, and I'm the blundering girl who just can't keep her emotions in check at the right time.

You, however, are somewhere in the middle. A gray area that I can't pinpoint, a color I can't distinguish. You are not violet nor blue, silver or gold, neither are you red or white. Greens or browns should be the obvious guess that comes to mind, but for me, they do not. You have been both strong and collected and weak and broken. From being cold-hearted and seemingly lost from the world to a grinning and outgoing person or even having a past of both hard-work and bloodshed to a one of glory and triumph, you really have seen it all. You've suffered the backlash of the Reds and the World Wars as well as your own personal battles of Grunwald. In present day, you again linger between what I had once thought of the world of black and white. Playing basketball is your life and bringing wine, flowers, or sweets to someone else is simply a natural thing to do. And yet, even if we all have our problems, they seem to weigh you down more often than others I have seen. Did you know, my darling, my enemy, that you and I share the world's highest of suicides? Simply wondering, is it not?

"Are you alright, Miss Belarus?" you asked, breaking my thoughts. "M-my! Are you crying?"

I had not noticed the tears, the break in my usual composure, or the reason for why they had flowed in rivers down my face that evening. Removing a glove from my hand frozen hand, I touched my face, in awe of them. My eyes continued to water and pour regardless of what you said. You touched my shoulders with thick gloves, tried to comfort me with words I couldn't hear over my own fascination. I had not cried in so long. I believed I had forgotten for the better. Even with a heart smashed to pieces, I would walk tall and proud.

I could only take in what was going on around me when you hugged me full on, allowing me to cry into your shoulder. It only brought more tears and more painful memories. When was the last time I had been hugged? By my sweet, wonderful sister so many years ago. When was the last time a man had hugged me? My brother, when I was still a child, before I had been taken away. I refused to hold you in return but I felt your own sorrows begin to break and seep from you as well. We stood like this, drowning in our own pity for ourselves and the other. What a disgraceful sight it really was.


	2. Chapter 2

The autumn had come. It had burst through my doors long before I had even noticed the spring and summer greens. It was the oranges, the gold, and the reds that had attracted my attention. Never before had I thought as much about this season. It had been a common, boring season that came before my favorite. It was then, that I asked myself, why had I never paid it the same mind? Stepping my way down a nature-ridden, river side road, I could no longer keep my thoughts from lingering back to our walks through empty, ice covered streets. Even though, this was so much different.

There were no empty voices or darkened skies. No, there was the sound of the world and the glinting late afternoon sun. Glancing at the sky, it was like seeing a pale blue canvas touched with fading oranges and yellows for the first time in my life. Oh to think how much of my life had been in those floating, never ending skies. Each of those passing days, years, centuries were merely never landing planes, never to know when, where, or if they landed. No, that was a lie. My skies were not _this_ kind of painting.

And regardless of anything else that could have been on my subconscious, I had begun asking myself the same question over and over again: What would these walks have been like for the two of us? Would my attitude remain its usual frozen tone, or would it have changed to match _this_ weather. Was that possible for me? Could I ever melt the frost around my heart? Such questions were not helping my already troubled mind. They were truly the last thing I needed now. And yet, you were still there. You were there with me, walking by my side, beaming from the colors to my puzzled face. You were there in my mind and my mind alone. After all, I did not _need_ you there with me. I had….

I stopped. The river. I had the river with its own conversation and its own autumn clothing. It wore its leaves like beautiful crowns, each one floating to another world, another place. Each just as shocking in color as the last. I was fascinated none the less. With each new brightly fashioned crown, the louder the river noise seemed to become. It whispered words to me. It told me so many things that I simply could not understand. It was trying to tell me something important! I knew that had to be it….

What was wrong with me?

Was I truly this insane? I almost laughed out loud when that thought donned on me. Everyone did believe that, didn't they? Belarus was, after all, the insane woman, with a hideous, blind-folded love, and all with a knife in hand. She could not see just how horrible her feelings were, you see. She needed to wake up and give up. But you could not say that to her face! Oh, no. She would cut your throat if you even dared! Ah yes, you cannot forget "Let's get married!" Yes, that seemed about right. For the most part, at least.

I had shaken my head to clear my subconscious of such troubling thoughts and in turn grasped a newly fallen orange crown from the pavement for myself to hold, to examine. Walking onto the decaying grasses of the river bed, I knew this breathless plant it was nothing like what I've grown up hearing was beautiful. It was large in size but not bright gold and green. It was not my own piece of the sun. Green was the color of life, and this treasure was browning with death. Twirling it by the lifeless stem, my eyes had lingered on where you would have stood with me.

Perhaps you would have not looked as pitiful without that stupid coat or those monstrous gloves. Perhaps these colors would have given you the false appeal that you were not wallowing in your own pain and suffering, as much as you tried and grasped out to escape it. It was meaningless to try wasn't, my dear? We were both drowning in this river. It was an interesting thought. But we were and we were grasping out to one another for support and help. Perhaps you were lower, weighed in troubles or it was I by madness.

Was this what the river was telling me? Was this its way of crying out for someone to swim through the ice that was beginning to incase the surface? To save the lives of those wallowing beneath the currents? The river's rushes began to grow deafening louder with each passing second. Was it too late for me? Was it too early for you? Was there merely not enough time for the two of us? Blaring jets and gushes of noise was beginning encasing the rest of the sounds and voices of the world.

You were not making it easier for me to survive this plunge. You with your stupid, small optimism. I had begun to tear bits of the leaf in bitter anger with each "insult" I mentally threw in your face. Your stupid kindness, with your idiotic way of helping people, and horrid way of accepting people regardless of their faults. Disgusting! Louder and louder that river had become. Not to mention that pathetic way of how people thought highly of you or how you always seemed to find the good in someone. I barely heard my enraged, cracked fury. The way you had _always_ come back to me, even after broken limbs, cold stares, frosted replies or threats with a knife. How you _swore_ to your friend that I had a heart to offer to you. Deafening noise and hardly a leaf left! Your pathetic lies that I should have never believed! And I-! I… Louder! Louder! There was nothing else to even hear! Pounding noise! Endless confusion and destruction! And to think that I-! I…

I did not deserve someone like you to care.

The moment it struck me, the remaining stem fell into the water, carried by a wind. With it, the deafening river fell back into its peaceful bliss.

What could I possibly have…? You were always his favorite. Come to think of it, you were many people's favorite, weren't you? What did I have to live up to you anyway?

"Miss Belarus?"

It was you. How you were there or where you had come from, I never thought to ask. How long had I been standing there anyway? Hours? Or maybe it was days? I just couldn't tell anymore. It seemed like that setting sun had been lasting for all eternity. Yet, the night had fallen without a warning or a notice. Interesting. Those nights really were only for us, weren't they? That auburn coat maybe didn't make you look pathetic, but it neither did it improve your structure. Hands in pockets, your expression was perhaps just as surprised, if not more, than my own. I prayed my eyes did not betray me to express my inner curiosity.

You were shuffling something around within your jacket. I pretended not to care. What was for me to notice? My attention was turned back to the river. We were drowning within it you know. Did you know that? But we could save each other. If I didn't hate you so much….

"It's been a while," you said to me. Your voice was still scratched with the chill of winter in my ears. "I didn't believe it was you when I first saw you here."

Did you make that up? I wanted so painfully to ask, but by the way your eyes shifted away and back to my face every few seconds, I had to ask _something_ to cure these many questions prodding my brain. Something with the same meaning in different words, perhaps?

"What did you really think?" I asked, keeping my chilled complexion intact. Winter simply could not leave us, could it?

You were silent, shifting nervously from one foot to the other; eyes directed to a thousand other places within ten seconds. Whatever you were so occupied with, it was juggling in your hidden hand.

"A-ah, well…." You swallowed. You were beginning to lose yourself again. "Well, y-you've been coming here for days it seems. I noticed but…I didn't want to bother you." So it really had been days? That's what I was doing? I just could not remember…. "U-um, you look very pretty in that dress! A-and your coat is very nice too!"

Both of which were black, such a contrast to these wondrous colors around us. In my frustration I asked you the same question again. You were avoiding me! Yet, to my surprise, you took a breath and answered:

"I, well…. Your birthday was two months ago, wasn't it?"I nodded. I believed I knew what was coming: some sort of fabulous present that you really couldn't afford, all in the name of love. You were full of positive surprises that day, weren't you? "I got you this." Finally, your hands retreated from your pockets and revealed a small box. "I know it's not nearly good enough for someone so wonderful like you, but I want you to have it." You smiled.

Not good enough for me? Wonderful? You fool, what would you had done if you knew what had right there? I took it none the less. And you, with an expression waiting for an earthquake, looked immediately away, towards the blackened river, still ever so slightly alive by the street lamps. Upon opening that box, I can remember vividly my eyes widening and trying to keep that creeping smile off of my face. However, whether it was out of joy or anger, I have long forgotten.

"You've really been making me wonder, you know." I answered, voice still clinging desperately to its usual cold exterior. Your head snapped to me, those previously dropping emeralds now bright and filled with hope.

Inside that small, worn box, obviously used before, was a necklace. A pendant made of metal, wrapped in the shape of a butterfly with wings made of bright orange amber. Honestly, I had expected a ribbon or a knife. Not that I don't enjoy those things, but this was a…interesting change. Holding it by the chain, I lifted it from the box, letting the street light reflect off. From the corner of my outwardly stern eyes, I could see your pleading, hoping ones. What did you expect of my reaction at that moment?

"I-it's, um, Baltic amber," I heard you mumble. "I hope that's alright…."

I was silent for many minutes, simply staring at this gift. Such a strange offer really. A butterfly? As if I had not heard your statement, I asked you why the insect was your choice. You told me it was because both butterflies and I were very pretty and I reminded you of one. I had never thought of anything like that before about myself. To my own inner amusement I told myself it was because butterflies are useless once they got their wings a little wet. I doubted the thought ever crept near that thick skull of yours. You continued babbling on about uninteresting things, over and over. Something about wanting to please me, something about wanting to bring a smile to my face.

"Lithuania." You jumped at the sound of your name, being spoken from my lips. "You really did not need to give me anything."

"Oh! But I wanted to, Miss Belarus." Your expression dropped. "If you don't like it… it's fine. Just please keep it."

No it was not whether or not I liked your gift. Personally, I was intrigued by the different birthday present. But I could never tell you that. I just couldn't. I also did not want the thing. How could I accept something I was both confused and repulsed by? No. It was not the actual trinket itself, but the motive behind it. It was given not because it was asked of or even required. Above all you had the decency, the _nerve_ to care. How could you remember such a boring, not to mention uneventful date? Even with all of these unanswered questions, I still had the idiotic motive to ask you one strange, and surprising question that puzzled myself:

"Will you walk with me?"

The pure shock you wore was to be expected. It was something you very much wanted to say 'yes' to but at the same time was weary about. You had hidden your hands in those pockets again and looked at the multi-colored trees. While you contemplated your thoughts, everything had begun to pile up inside my mind. Those colors, that amber, and the color I could never pin you as. It was then I believed I was beginning to grasp what you have become in these recent years. You let out a long exhale and offered me your arm.

Ah yes, that all too familiar picture had been painted once more. But- where was the ice? The snow? The chilling air? The heartbroken stares and frosted eyes? What had truly changed? What was different on the inside? The silence was still worse than that blasted river had been. I wanted to throw us both into that torture device right then and there. To think that perhaps the other one or even my beloved would have something to say, to break this silence worse than death.

"I don't understand." I had spoken, without my own recollection no doubt. You made an odd gesture with your shoulder to show you were listening to every word that would come from me. "What on earth is wrong with me…?"

There I was again, pretending I could not feel your actions as your arms tightened around mine. You wanted to say so many things didn't you? Why couldn't you just say it? Why?

"Nothing at all," you whispered. "I think you're perfect."

As much as I wanted to break my legs and wrench away, I could not. My soul was too cold to be away from the small, barely heated one you had left. Even in the autumn, we were still so cold….

"You're a fool. How could you even say something so idiotic?" I knew I had begun to crack. My composure was beginning to suffer again.

I heard the tiny grin in your answer, it made my stomach turn in disgust, "You know why. But, I don't feel shame in saying it again." Those evil, evil words. "I love you."

Stupid boy. You could not have made me want to strangle you anymore than that moment. Even as my fingers and begun to crush your arm, we carried on. I wondered how we would have appeared to anyone had they passed us. Romantic? An average couple? Two pitiful people? I hardly had the heart to care.

From the corner of my eye, I examined your facial features. They were beginning to reflect the tired and broken ones from those months prior. My eyes directed towards falling leaves, rather than snow that time. I asked if you had been smoking again. You told me no, to which I knew you were lying. We truly did need to give up on human things such as that. I then asked if you had visited that restaurant again. You lied once more. Typical of you to try and tell me things you prayed I would believe. Anything for Belarus, right? Anything for the darling Natalia.

The final and bonus question surfaced in my mind. By the way you tensed, I supposed you knew what was going to come. My lips hardly opened at all, but they formed the question asking whether or not you had thought of my tears or the last time we had walked together in spite of ourselves. You broke.

"I'm very, very sorry about that. I didn't mean to do anything to make you cr-upset." You choked on that last word. Oh, I knew what you were going to say. In turn, you were staring at me with the same heartbroken expression you had given to me on more than one of those winter nights. I turned to you, fingers fiddling with the necklace in my coat pocket. You did nothing wrong but exist. "I should have never questioned you…. I didn't have the right to assume anything." It wasn't your fault. "I'm deeply sorry."

Your head fell and you began rambling off I guessed were Lithuanian words to calm yourself down while your legs picked up the pace. Can't have you cry in front of me again could we? Was that it? Of course it was.

I examined your tangled hair. "Shut up." You flinched. Don't say that. "What gives you the right to apologize?" Confusion took over every movement you had. "It was my own thoughts that did that. Not your words." Each sentenced was clipped.

It was then your head rose, expression trying desperately to hold back the complete and utter joy brimming through you. I could feel it. I could feel it as easily as I could feel your depression and aches. You whispered, just above the volume of a thought, that you needed to apologize for your wrongs. What wrongs, you idiot? All you've ever done is make me miserable and confused. I'm sure that truly means nothing.

"You don't understand." Your voice was stronger. "No, you don't get it. You make me happy. Happier than when I am with anyone else." Could have fooled me. "I don't care what you say; I only see the good in you." You were grinning.

My eyes had widened. This was both pathetic and at the same time, heart-wrenching for me. To be blinded by something you could never have…. You monster. You horrible man! Why did you have to say that! My mind was twisting. We were far too similar in the end! It was burning! Your core, why did it have to be so like them and touch mine as well? Why? Why was it that in our emotional, our mental state we finally clasped hands to one another in the abyss of water? Were not saving one another. We were merely suspending ourselves in the depths. It seemed more like we would drown forever, together, just the two of us. We were wrapped in each other's inner pleas for the surface. To breathe for the first time in so many years…. No. Instead, it was becoming more along the lines that we would drown for all eternity you and I.

How could I only feel the need to take you with me? No one else deserved or was already with me, for that matter? If you were so like them, why was it my darling still gasped at the surface and the other stood proudly in the shallows? Why was it only we endured the cold together while they could take it on their own? So many questions. Yet, at the same time, perhaps there were many answers. Above all there was one we both knew in mind and soul. We had need. We needed someone, something there to reach out and lie that everything would be ok. That even in the toughest of situations, the broken pieces could be mended together once more. Even if we would deny it to the grave. It seemed like all those years all I ever truly wanted was love. Love was something I believed no one could offer me unless it was from my precious family. Even if I frightened them, they had to have felt some sort of compassion, right? Right? Right?

"You're just as horrible as I am." I whispered to what really seemed like nothing. For you see, I had begun to doubt what was reality and what was my own restless dreams and thoughts. "Absolutely insane."

You laughed, with actual warmth that startled me. "Even if that's true," your voice was indeed sounding stronger then; not only that but warmer as well, "we can be insane together." Those eyes. They were reflecting those horrid summers you had. And then, for some reason, I half- nodded. "Absolutely insane." You half-heartily laughed after you repeated my words for what was counting up to be a million times. "Yes, that seems about right, isn't it?"

We continued walking until we reached that pitiful apartment I was still calling a home. You held your tongue about my brother that time. Good. You were learning. Such a warped mentality I had then. I hardly noticed the smile you wore underneath those comforting eyes. With it, I took little attention to the soft, hesitant kiss you left on the ribbon I was wearing. With one last look, you turned and left once more. There were no tears for me to shed this time, no pitiful ways to calm me. Just a soft, delicate sink into one another, a mental, rather than physical, embrace. I hope you're happy, because the frost around me, my own ice about my heart, burns as it melts ever so slightly.


	3. Chapter 3, End

I never really did like fire. However, the flames did serve some sort of positive purpose as it devoured both logs of wood and old photos. I hardly had half a mind on the latter. It kept my body heat from plummeting through the floor was all that mattered. My eyes were glossy, I could tell, as I watched sister's teary face decay and my dearest's horrified expression burn. Everything in that house had been so cold. The wood burned my feet if I tried to walk across the surface. Instead, I retired to curling up on my windowsill. The rain kept the silence away for me, head resting against the glass as if I was leaning in to hear all it had to say. It had rained so much that early spring. Do you remember that? They were like little droplets of frozen hell falling from the sky. To think I adored the snow with such words! Yet, at least that had some beauty to it. That rain was cold and ugly.

You hadn't spoken with me for months. Though, my sister tried to often. My answering machine was filled just about every day. She wanted to talk to me, see me, and let her know everything was alright. But nothing was fine. I was far too confused to speak or tell her anything. I could hardly piece together what I was doing each passing day rather than tell her how my life was. You bastard. Why did you do that to me? My thoughts were just a jumbled mess. You were horrible. You were always plundering my mind each day. I would go through your words, simply wondering if you meant them. If you really cared _that_ much.

To think, around Christmas you sent me flowers. I kept them in spite of myself. I didn't want them. Why would I? Every time I walked by them I glared down the petals as if they were your face. Sending me flowers... Sunflowers, no doubt. Of course. They came with a small card that I read maybe once before tossing aside. Something about Christmas and the New Year, no doubt and maybe something else I merely looked over. Once or twice I found myself mumbling to the stupid plants. Talking to them as if they really were you. I would tell them trivial things. Things like the weather, the sky, and the colors outside. The usual things I thought of when you come to mind.

"Hello."

"Why yes, it is raining again."

"No, I don't like you."

"You're ugly."

Upon catching myself, I would stalk off miserable. I needed to speak to you again. Why, though? All I ever did when we would have those walks was say things to make your life horrid. A living, wretched hell, so to speak. No, that's right. Not hell. I was drowning you in a river. I almost forgot. I almost forgot how I was dragging you deeper below the surface. How I needed you to be there with me. Even still, I hated you and at the same time, intrigued. You and I truly had some sort of connection. As much as I despised it and wanted it to burn in my fireplace as well. If only I could cut _that_ with my knives. Then perhaps I could think clearly. At least, as clearly as Belarus can think, of course. I've heard she's quite the insane one.

My phone rang again. My only reaction was a blink and a glace out the window, temple still resting against the freezing glass. I sighed. No there were no pictures of you I had to burn. Ironic, is it not? I had many from our Soviet days and yet, none of you. Although, they were more like those stupid photos you see teenagers posting all over the internet. In a way, they were probably just that. My answering machine beeped and sister's voice rang out through my natural nocturne. I stopped caring past "Sister? It's me again…." I knew what she would say anyway. She wanted to know the same things with each ring, so I really had no need to listen. Only was my interest perked when she finished her message with:

"Lithuania stopped by today. He apparently will be close by... Call me back!" Click. Only rain again.

Why couldn't you just stay out of mind _and_ out of sight?

Stepping down my own streets was like stepping on pieces of glass. How could something so normal, so natural, so average be so painful? Was it because of where I was going? What I was thinking? The rain that day did its own part in burning my skin through my clothes and hair. Needless to say, just a few hours prior, in my utter frustration, I had a small "disagreement" with those plants of mine. It was only minor, of course. They simply made me angry so I flung them from my table. I added a scream of rage for good measure. I still wonder if they looked more beautiful smashed on my floor.

By that time, my sister had already come to my door almost as many times as she called per day. It was a miracle in itself that I answered her once. Somewhere in the middle of her visits and knocks I actually had the decency to answer that damned door. Never the beginning or end. That's not how I work.

"Go home, sister," I had told her. For your own sake. I'm not worth it. Regardless, I don't think she ever did. Even after I had snuck from my own building into my own streets, I don't think she ever went home.

I stared at the pale buildings, signs, and people. So many people. Where did all of these humans honestly come from, anyway? Why was it my job to hold them? Why couldn't they all simply be "immortal" right along with me? That would make things like disasters, wars, and a rotten government a little easier on my bones. I think. Even if I stood still, they all passed me, whether they recognized who I really was or not. Take a guess! Am I a silly human girl named Natalia or am I the country of Belarus? I would like to know the answer too. Someone should tell me.

I'm dumb enough to be either, I suppose. I am, after all, blinded by much far too often, drowning on more occasion that breathing. I was like those trees in the winter: bones. I'm nothing to it but bones; nothing but a professional degenerate. Ah, but don't worry. I'm lovely at my occupation. No need for questioning there. However, as you know, I have been slacking off recently. Around you, at least. Maybe not others, much to the disappointment of my sister.

I stopped in the middle of that bustling square. Victory Square. So inspirational yet hateful that place. There was something I realized in this little lament about my life. What about me? What about what I want? My needs? Did countries have such options? Probably not. Just look at my beloved. He suffered constantly and there was nothing he, or sister, or the world, or I could do. Maybe even the other had no real choices in what he did. Did he honestly have as many regrets as the rest of us? Sure. He must. I touched my face in thought. Those two men. They were remarkable. Why was it that you were always kicked to the shadows beneath them? You were probably just as old as my darling and maybe your blood shed was just as horrid as the other's. Then again, you're also remarkable. We're remarkable.

The two of us. We're great and crazy. Did you know that? Did you know that I _knew_ that, rather than _thought_ that? Maybe we didn't have the money or land or even the power like they. But we were just as crazy, just as involved in any war that has happened, just as rich in history and culture. Just as amazing and _better_. So, our people are unhappy and our lands are poor. So, we are crushed because of it. So, we were brushed below the monopolies of the world. So, we're fantastic. We're beautiful even in drowning. You give off a color even if I cannot see it. They can. And they'll keep looking at it if it's the last thing you ever do.

I swayed in the rain. Yes, that's right. You heard me. Then, in a random act, I swayed more. Maybe I could live in a moment, even for a few seconds. Even if no one around cared or noticed. It transformed into small turns and hops and twists. I spun in circles and let my dress create its own movements to go along with mine. Perhaps I was making random movements and graceful acts because I was bored. Maybe I was dancing or something stupid. Maybe I was hoaxing my mind into believing all of those thoughts I had and this was the only way to do it. After all, when you're the best in the world, who cares what you do. And that's exactly what I'll pretend to be. In my own tiny, crazy, mixed up mind.

"Hello, Miss Belarus."

Did I stop the first or the third time you spoke those words to me? I hadn't even noticed it was night.

My stop was not sudden, but instead I slowed at my own pace. Couldn't have you actually believe I cared you were there could I? My eyes gave you a once over. You still looked heavy from the winter, even in a light jacket to battle the rain. It was a light green while the rest of your attire was some dark color I could not distinguish in the cloudy atmosphere and lamps. The corners of your lips were twitching. Did you want to smile? Were you too afraid I'd kill you on the spot if you did? Interesting boy. I barely noticed that your hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. Like the old days when you were a Duchy and a Commonwealth. When you were strong and blood thirsty. When I was yours and no one else's. When I had no choice.

Was that your way of saying you were happier now? Was that your way of saying you had begun to swim to the river's surface of our minds whether or not I was coming with? Or was this your way of saying you too knew you were good too. You took a breath or maybe four before speaking.

"H-how was your winter?" You smiled softly. Your voice was still stronger and those stutters were now distinguishable to the cold rain. It sounded just like it had been the last night we had seen one another. "You got my flowers, right? I-I hoped you'd enjoy them."

I didn't respond verbally right away. I gave you a soft nod still looking you over. You had impeccable timing. You always seemed to show up right when night hit. Did you plan that? Or maybe, were you meant to do that? Either or, it's both stupid and interesting to me. It always was, honestly. You complimented my dancing.

"How did you find me here, anyway?" was my only answer. No thank you, no form of courtesy.

You shrugged. "Luck."

To think you seemed to never have any at all. I told you that. You smiled wide. I was your lucky charm, apparently. Stupid boy, a country like me doesn't have luck. You should know that by now. But, we do get those random chances of happiness. Even if they are still nothing compared to the trauma, they are something. I looked away from you, only for a second before you said those familiar words.

"Walk with me?"

I shocked myself as to how quickly I reached for your arm and how readily I went through the rain with you that night. It was like walking back into an old and comfortable way of life one wonders why they ever left. Like a good cup of coffee or tea or a long-forgotten song one suddenly hears again for the first time in what seems like years. That was that feeling. Those were those emotions. Odd to think, isn't it? Belarus has some vague understanding of reminiscence.

This time, we had rain. It was cold like snow, but the air was warmer like the autumn. I didn't understand this. Here we were again, in this limbo between one and the other. Neither cold or crisp nor white or oranges; stuck in the middle range. Just like everything about you. You with your odd colors and personality that confused me so often. Is this where we were meant to be, then? Both of us?

"How is, um, Lukashenko doing for-," you tried to start.

"We don't speak of him."

"Ah," you swallowed. "I see. It's alright." Your eyes found my face. "I like your new bow, Miss Belarus. The color suits you."

It was some strange mix of blue and purple that somehow managed to match my dress. I almost thanked you for that one. Oh, yes. I forgot to tell you. That necklace that you gave me is intact. I am actually almost too frightened to wear the trinket. I could rip it apart or try to burn it if I'm not too careful. I did happen to wear it once, however. Everyone seemed to love it. I gave you a summarized version of that. You laughed lightly yet happily. You did something right for once? Bravo.

We continued onward for long while. Strangely enough, my own places seemed almost foreign. It was as if I was seeing them clearly for the first time. Oh, how ironic. It was raining and dark and that's how I was able to finally see my own buildings and other infrastructure. Still, I wanted to touch them all, make sure they were the real deal. To make sure I had not wandered into another home or something of the sort.

"How have you been?" You asked through the incoming mist. "It's been quite a while, hasn't it?"

I agreed. "I wonder why."

You shrugged again. "I'm not sure. I've wanted to do this again for a while. I love these walks we have you know."

So did I. But you didn't need to know that. We walked for maybe another block or so before you stopped. I turned to you and stared. Oh? What was wrong now? You sighed deeply looking at me with those eyes that were no longer so sad or so painful. I knew that, somehow, I had managed to change that. Regardless of not wanting or having any meaning to, I had. There was no turning back now. A few cars had sped by, but I couldn't feel the water. I was transfixed for some pitiful reason.

"What do you think of me?" You asked, voice stronger than I had heard it in years. "Am I really the only one who cares? If that's true," you swallowed and breathed again, "then why spend all of this time with me?"

I stared. What did I think of you? What haven't I already ranted about you? What haven't I already screamed and hollered and exploded at you? Oh, right. That was in my head, wasn't it? Could I give up anything and everything I hoped for? My dearest, the one I would forever love. It was love right? I think now, maybe it was some sort of desperate need for that Prince Charming. He was and so was the other. But you're not. You're no Prince or Hero. You'll never be. But, I'll never be Cinderella either. I'll never be a Princess, a Tsarevna, or Duchess. No, I will never have that. But you know, I don't need it. You don't need to be Prince, Tsar, or Duke either. You only need those strong eyes and voice. Or did you leave it back there on the streets, back in the fields of gold. Out where your dreams were high and the bells never rang of danger. Where the birds always sang and the winds blew warm. Out where the girls never died like now.

I looked up at you with an expression that crushed yours. Before I thought, my hand reached for your face. I think that was the first time I had touched your skin, to be honest. Your eyes were so green and different. I was horrified. My own blue ones widened and my mouth opened a small amount in fear. What have you done to me, you horrid creature? I saw a man in those eyes. Not a weak and pitiful boy walking in a grown body. I no longer saw the weak and meaningless life. Was I truly the thing that I always made you out to be? When you closed those mirrors, I regained some thought process, but only for a brief second. You kissed my forehead. I was in utter shock and horror. But, why had I not turned away then? It was as if that kiss could heal my head.

"What do you think of me?" you asked again. "Please, answer me."

"I don't know what to think of you." You stared. "I want to hate you. I want to run a knife through you and watch you suffer. But… I can't. I need this, this whatever you want to call it."

You're eyes relaxed. "Oh?" I knew your heart did a double take. Injudicious thing.

"Don't act so mighty." I watched your face twist confused. "We have a lot in common, you know." I flinched at my own words. "Why are you, anyway? Do you have some sort of issue that makes you like me?"

You laughed again. I wanted to snap your hands off. "Whatever it is, I don't mind having it." Your eyes seared into mine. Stop it. You actually make me pay attention to you then. "Do you need this or do you need _me_?"

I glared. All the rage I had bubbled up inside of me. I felt as though I would explode and destroy you in the process. All of this bitter frustration. There were so many things I wanted to do right then. I wanted to rip all of my hair out, strangle you to death, beat myself against the wall of the building, and smash your head to the pavement, on and on. So many horrible things. I wanted to murder both of us, but I did none of it. Instead I took a shaky and heated breath. My eruption was fairly short, surprisingly.

"Both!" I snapped in your face. "Both, I need both!"

You smiled. All of that joy and hope bundled in you seeped from within. You weren't jumping for joy or screaming to the heavens. You were simply smiling at me with utter satisfaction. I knew deep down you wanted to have an external party in the middle of the night. I knew you wanted nothing more right then. You didn't. Needless to say, I was grateful.

You know something, this so-called "relationship" we have is confusing and complicated. It's annoying, yet highly appropriate. You no longer smelled like smoke. There wasn't even the faintest hint of wine on your breathe either. What was left of you or left of me? What was it that we had in the beginning still lingered? Was there anything? Or was it more that you changed and I followed in suit? Was it more like I couldn't be left at the bottom? If I was going to drown, I would be drowning with you, not on my own. It's been too long and too cold. I honestly am tired of it.

Maybe I tricked myself then. Maybe I deluded myself into believing in something that never existed. But it was then, that strange moment amongst the purple and gray sky and the misting rain that I smiled. At you. Only at you. If there had been another soul, they were dead at that moment. I came closer to you. I'm such a fool. A pitiful and hopeless fool. Yet, all of this time, was it you I was meant to stay with from the beginning? Was it truly a desperate need to hate someone rather than a genuine despise? I didn't care. I don't care.

You smiled too. We were so crazy. We are so opheliac. We knew it. A disastrous cataclysm every single day. Yes, that's me. From all of the snow and leaves and rain, these nights, these beautiful nights, were worth so much more than you can ever imagine. A small, ugly, and wonderful hope.

You're hands cupped my face.

"I still love you, Miss Belarus."

And maybe, just maybe, I could love you for now.  
But only just for now.

* * *

Hello and thank you for reading this story! :) I am so very glad for the reviews and alerts! I never expected it! Anyway, I will always gladly write a Lithuania and Belarus, but if anyone has any ideas for the future, I would love to hear them!

Thank you for the read!


End file.
